After our entrée into Alabama society, the boys were all taking off for home and I could not imagine another 2-4 hours on a backless aluminum bench inside the jet engine created by another 100,000 fans, so I decided to stay in the very nice Home2 Suites in downtown Birmingham thinking I would write some of this blog, watch NFL football, talk to friends and family and just hang.

My legend of a roommate was an old software acquaintance and partner over a negotiation or two from the distant past. Clive Harrison is from the UK and is a fine, congenial and talented fellow. I had not seen him in decades; he has been a multi-year participant in Phil Scott’s fishing and college football trips. 

Clive mentioned yesterday, in the middle of our HUGE day, that he was SO sorry he had booked a flight out on Sunday. He is a Formula 1 fan and noted that the 500 mile race held at Talladega every year (named, this year “The Yellawood 500”) was only 50 miles from B’ham (seemingly a standard abbv. here). So I went all Ford and thought “well why not?”  and SeatGeek’d a single cheap ticket in the grandstand, planning to go. 

That was before beginning the epic Saturday just past. By halftime on the cramped hard bench after the climb to the upper reaches of Bryant-Denny Stadium with 100,077 of our closest SEC friends, I knew it. It was very unlikely I’d want to get up and battle the huge traffic jam presented by Talladega’s 1pm start the following morning. By the time we got back from Tuscaloosa via Mickelly’s responsible drive to B’ham and Waffle House with Sean McConnell’s “Best We’ve Ever Been” rolling through my brain, I knew I didn’t wanna. Maybe.

Go to 1:45 for…..

We’ll hang out with all the vampires
Down at Waffle house
We’ll bum a couple cigarettes
Just to let em hang out of our mouths

AND I learned it would rain in the morning – nothing like riding in the RAIN to a NASCAR race I was unsure about attending. Yet hanging out with the departees in the morning, it was realized that….

• Me: “Hey, if I start to ride out there when the race starts, with an hour drive in front of me, I’ll both miss the rain, AND the traffic.”
• When I shared that insight at about 11:30 am, Clive said, “I sure would!” And Marty said, “you may regret it if you do, but you’re MUCH more likely to regret it if you don’t.”

Truer words…. Wound me up. It had become a windy, dry and sunny day after rain through about 11am. It took an hour or so to get my room settled – I HAD to move out of the 2-person suite as the hotel remained sold out. And off we went. 

It was a crowded, breezy interstate all the way, but high speed, so I just had to avoid the trucks. 

But there was NO traffic at this massive event – everyone was already in.

I pulled into the first open gate with the NASCAR “coliseum” and a sea of campers and cars — vehicles of every type lounged in front of me as far as the eye could see. But I had made a tactial error. It took me 20 minutes just to walk from the bike to the FIRST gate, and there must have been another ¾ of a mile of stands before the section in which my seat was likely to be. 

There were very few people out and about and I could hear the faint roar of the engines as I approached. A heavily tattoo’ed, scary looking guy offered that the race was about only 50 laps in and I wasn’t too late. “Hail, yooouw’ll see the bayst pahrt, the feeyenish.” He had a viking two-sided axe tattoo’d on his right cheek and was pretty massive. But very kind and helpful. He didn’t laugh at me when I asked how many total laps there were in the race, as my plan was to watch for 45-60 minutes and then get out before the massive jam-up that was fated to follow the feeyenish. I thanked him, we shared a laugh at my rookie-laden nature as he informed me that it was 188 laps, total. Like it was the Rule of 3, or something. And as I walked away, he said the most charming, traditional “aloha” that NASCAR might offer…,
“Happy Talladega!!!”

To be fair, all I knew about Talladega before today I learned from “Talladega Nights” and when One and I went to Halloween as RickyBobby and Carlie.

There are clearly unique attributes of big Alabama sporting events…, they all involve 100,000 people, long walks and BIG climbs! Or mine did. 20 minutes to the grandstand plus a steep huge ramp up to the venue 

I never did try to find my seat as there were oceans of stands and plenty of seats where people were up and around somewhere. There are “Experiences,” Pit Passes, VIP passes, Grandstands and Towers with every kind of access imaginable. There is a team of announcers, “ON” full time, telling race fans what is happening in the 80-90% of the track they can’t see, or extolling the virtues of Talladega, NASCAR and the organizations, town and fans that support it. 

And then the cars come by with a wall of noise that is at least uncomfortable and likely effectively deafening. In a miracle (for me) of foresight, I simply left my motorcycle ear plugs in except the one time I injudiciously removed them to experience the whole enchilada. 

Clearly, I must prefer partial enchiladas. 

Anyway, seeing the cars roar by at breakneck speed in formations that morph and even seem to breathe…, it’s exciting. It’s pretty exciting the 2^nd time., too By the 10^th time, I am wondering about what I am not understanding. 

Empathy and experience have taught me that significant sets of people think baseball is boring – and I wonder what in heaven’s name they could be thinking.

NASCAR fans, have at it, I am that guy about your sport. 

From George Will,

“Baseball, it is said, is only a game. True.
And the Grand Canyon is only a hole in Arizona.
Not all holes, or games, are created equal.” 

I am sure that NASCAR has devotees that would make similar claims. Who is your George Will, your Ring Lardner, your Roger Angell and I will read up on it.

For now, I am glad that I went. I am sure that I simply don’t understand and can’t see it.

At least not 188 times.

I returned on an empty Interstate to a good dinner and a 49er win.

Happy Talladega!